Elucidating Questions

The gears turn in the machine, the cogs, the springs. It doesn’t stop to rest or take a break, the wheels turn.

Things that must be done, things that need to be said. Things that must be written, things that must be read.

One more day on the never ending cycle. The days that just turn, the light and the dark. Hundreds of days of the doors being closed, hundreds of days of the neverending.

Merely turning the wheels, merely sorting more strings, merely doing more research, merely existing.

And what does it matter, tomorrow comes anyways.

So what’s the difference between today and yesterday?

Is it morning or noon. Hiding in dreams when the day is too much and the daylight is plentiful.

Yet the nameless stories of actions and words, untold and secret as the strange things happen and the hope is for freedom of uncontrollable minds.

Safety in a world of strangeness, safety in the existence of nothing and others.

Hiding in plain sight.

Left to try to put the shards together.

Slipping back into it like the dragging into darkness.

Can’t wake when the world is too hard to face.

Is it a waste of time to chase stories that will never occur.

The silent whispers of words spoken cruelly when such words are not warranted.

As it happens every time, and why I end up the bad guy, when the debt was paid and the apologies clear, when purpose of suffering and pain wasn’t there

Why does this happen in every story, that regardless of actions the words come out sharp,

I tried to do right and it just turns out the same. And taken silent again and again the words that aren’t said to try to right the balance.

Self defense only and never against, as the words spoken aloud are merely a cry to apologise.

Ignoring the pain felt for the pain of the self, and no matter how many times explained, why my pain is invalid when your pain is fair to be felt.

They just leave when it’s not good enough for them.

And it hurts the same every time. And still comes out on top.

Wanting to be rescued, while sitting on top of the mountain.

Jupiter hangs low in the skies, the streetlights blink out.

The traffic lights shine, the night sky’s night light.

The twins beyond sight, the light or the clouds.

The moon yet invisible, the sun far away.

The stars that shine in the night, if today was the last day,

Would record a boring end, to a boring me.

And if that was that story, well it would be unfair,

That any story could just end there.

Yet as it is it was wanted, and is yet still,

By the daily nothing living.

The light flickers back, the waiting for sleep,

The beginning of tomorrow, alone and in bed.

The laughing of the children as they pass by, the cars that move the words that fly.

A city alight with being alive, a place where the other people feel the vibe,

Of an evening out where life is lived and those who enjoy the weekend play, as sitting on the side and watching the day

The sun is gone now, the evening is awake, far off mountains somewhere else,

The growl of engines, the lingering smoke.

The highlighted purples in the spotlight’s gaze,

The rising of the planet, who follows the evening,

A light someplace else, a star who is born.

Beyond the skies the night that is shown,

The songs of a siren who wishes to be seen.

The longing to see the waves tumbling, when it’s far away and the legs are too tired.

Can’t say tomorrow, and the moon’s day is so far.

If there is time on the day after words have been made,

Perhaps we can meet in the beautiful bay.

Too many roads, so many options. Places and things and thousands of human choices.

Choices already made thousands and thousands. Even gone in nothing the words still existed. The things that were said still happened when told

And inspite the start and middle and the end and those things that happened.

At some point it made sense, and then it didn’t. As it is, still sitting in silence so what is the result?

That the wind is blowing on an afternoon that merely is the beginning of the day.

Trying to keep it together when it wants nothing more than to break. The feeling of beats taken for reasons unknown.

If thoughts are on trial and feelings disregarded,

The mind just shuts down, if you take away the wings and drown out the sound of it.

For truly what reason could this be, that this place is here and here there is me,

Merely sitting and looking at asphalt rivers, waiting for the time to leave so the day can happen

And then be over.